My Paper Heart
by GLEH
Summary: A retelling of the sexuality, the angst, and romance that can be found in love, this story tells what love was like for Draco and Harry. Songfic.
1. Default Chapter

MY PAPER HEART  
Chapter One:  
Something He Cannot Feel  
  
An enchanting smile from across the hall, a secretive seductive glance from across the room; all they ever shared in public. As much as they felt like they needed each other, they barely ever showed the want to anyone. Whoever had initiated this relationship, anyway? Whoever would have thought this type of relationship could ever exist? Who would even call this a relationship?  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Harry entered the room and he glanced around nervously. Changing his gaze momentarily to the window high upon the outer castle wall, he saw that the moonlight fell on him, exposing half of his face to the piercing brightness. The light abbreviated the blackness of Harry's hair, the shape of his glasses, and the fierceness of the lightning bolt scar. Moving on his feet, Harry shifted just out of the reach of the moon, once more almost disappearing into the darkness.  
And, like the sun rising after a night of war, the other boy appeared from an opposite doorway. Folding his arms in a menacing manner, Draco Malfoy gazed at the supposedly great and wonderful Harry Potter. Raising one side of his mouth to form a sneer, the quick tongued boy walked towards The Hero.  
"Not so wonderful now, are you?" Draco maliciously commented to the nearly quivering boy. "After what you did to my father, you should be thankful that I'm even here."  
Raising his head to face Draco, Harry parted his lips, no idea of what he planned to say, only to feel them covered by Draco's. One body pressed against the other, a boy's lips moving across the smooth skin of his lover by night, everything felt so alive. Their pulses raced, their lips grew more fervent. The longer they were away from each other without their midnight escapades both boys grew more desperate, the next meeting would always be violent, rushed, and almost frantic.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
As the morning dawned, new and forbidding, Draco stood from the floor, leaving Harry to fidget uncomfortably, the lonely feeling rising by the second, just like the sun. As Draco pulled on his now wrinkled dress shirt, he looked back at the quiet boy asleep on the cold concrete floor. He turned away from Harry, and pulled the door open quietly. With one last look back, he quickly pulled the door shut behind him.  
Harry sat up to see the door click shut; so, once more, he was gone. Together during the night, enemies by the morning light; that's how it was. Collapsing back onto the ground, Harry inhaled deeply, a racking sob reverberating throughout his entire body.  
Draco was always the one to leave.  
  
-Please just don't play with me  
My paper heart will bleed  
This wait for destiny won't do  
Be with me, please, I beseech you  
Simple things that make you run away  
Catch you if I can-  
  
Games were always apparent in the 'relationships' that Draco hosted. He could never admit anything past true lust, if that. If a problem arose, if somebody was asking for something more than a lustful word; he would escape. A look too loving in a lover's eyes could be the minuscule trigger Draco needed, ensuring a improvised plan for his quick route to freedom.  
Harry stood begrudgingly from the floor and pulled his clothes on, feeling the faint warmth that surrounded his previously naked body. After he completely dressed, he pulled the chamber door heavily open and exited into the student body hallway, once more the enemy of his lover.  
Heading directly towards the Great Hall, Harry felt his stomach grumble for the third time that morning. As he stepped into the Great Hall, his eyes immediately swiveled to the Slytherin table, where Draco sat; inconspicuously watching Harry. Since Harry knew that sitting at the Slytherin table was impossible, he dejectedly headed for the Gryffindor table, sliding in next to Ron.  
The day proceeded slowly, with depression written across Harry's face almost permanently. The few times that Harry was able to view Draco, he saw that Draco constantly looked perfectly content and malicious. Never once did his expression falter from normality. While Harry watched Draco, he discovered how much he needed him. Even if it were only a sneer sent his direction, it would have made his day increase in all of its entirety.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Harry rushed to their meeting spot; terribly anxious to see Draco again, longing for the feel of their bodies, their hands together. As he leaned against the wall just inside the door, he clutched at the stitch in his side and concentrated on breathing. He fidgeted, counting the minutes - the seconds - inside his head. Drumming his fingers along the cold, concrete wall, he felt the time pass inside his head, and his mind grew more and more worried.  
"Maybe he isn't coming," he whispered to himself, over and over.  
Harry sank to the floor and leaned his head against the grooved walls, his mind defeating himself. A deeper depression slowly spreading throughout his body. His foot twitched and his eye blinked, and he sank lower onto the floor.  
Suddenly, the door banged open and Harry jumped in shock from the loud noise. The platinum blonde boy looked around the room, until his piercing eyes landed upon the scared, and wary child crumpled on the floor. The silver eyes widened ever so slightly as he noticed the heap of depression upon the stone flooring.  
"You're still here?" his voice held slight disbelief.  
"Why wouldn't I be?" unwavering devotion seeped into Harry's words.  
"Because . . . because I'm so late," finality in the tone suppressed the joy he felt.  
Standing up, Harry looked into Draco's eyes as much he dared. In the dark, unexpected eyes, he saw a shiny tear slide down the well defined and pale cheek.  
  
-Tears fall down your face  
The taste is something new  
Something that I know  
Moving on is easiest when I am around you-  
  
After the tear falls it cannot be recalled, and Harry stared unceasingly at Draco's exposed emotions; normally so bottled up inside. Harry could see that something inside Draco was breaking; rupturing, exploding everything he leaned upon into something impossible and unimaginable. Slowly, Harry lifted his fingers to Draco's soft cheek and wiped the tear clean away from his skin.  
Momentarily, Draco closed his eyes, merely enjoying the soft touch. But too quickly for both of them, Draco's eyes opened and he slapped Harry's hand away.  
Trying to achieve a cruel tone of voice, Draco spat at Harry, "Potter. I've decided that this has come to a standstill." It was clear that by "this" he meant the tentative relationship that they had attempted to establish without using words of commitment. "It'd be best if we both went our . . . our . . ." he paused. It seemed as if he was reflecting over the recent history with Harry. The sensuality and sexuality that they had shared; the cold, lonely nights that they had shared with each other, but most of all, Draco reveled in the obedience and longing that Harry had always bestowed upon Draco. "I think we should . . . we should stop this."  
Gaping at him like a fish out of water, Harry's mouth automatically started to flap wordlessly. Apart was something Harry knew he couldn't bear. "But," he managed to whimper, "but why, Draco?"  
"Potter," he said, mustering up a cold tone, "I just don't think this is working; you're just . . ." Draco fumbled, "not my type."  
After a moment, Draco turned away, almost reluctantly, and pulled the door open slowly. Pausing a moment, he looked back at Harry who stood there, struck dumb. Once again, Draco turned away and he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.  
  
-So bottle up old love  
And throw it out to sea  
Wash it away as you cry-  
  
Late in April Harry sat at the Gryffindor table. It had been almost three months since that night when Draco had said those final parting words. Every day was a living Hell for Harry. Something he couldn't bear was upon him all of the time. Everyday, Harry tied to think of some way that he could convince Draco to come back. His dreams were outlandish and lovesick. He never tried any of them.  
  
*~*~*~* 


	2. Unexpected Sympathy

Draco tried to smooth his already impeccably smooth platinum hair as he watched Harry move about the table, his face still morbidly unhappy. Everything was ruined for Harry . . . and Draco was the cause of it. Something that Draco didn't feel very often crept into his system: remorse. But he looked away from the pained Harry, and he grimaced.  
The feelings had been getting much too strong for Draco. It was like he couldn't breathe for the thought of Harry. Just the whisper of Harry's name and Draco would be peaceful, a mere glance from Harry and Draco would be happy. And Draco didn't like to be in love, anything past lust was too involved for Draco. Because he was afraid. Afraid of something true and pure.  
As he sat there reminiscing, Draco felt something stir inside his chest, and it was as if he had decided on something. As the decision came to a conclusion, feelings of renewed possible joy were starting to infiltrate the teenage misery that had nestled so comfortably but painfully inside his heart. As Draco stood, his brain called out objections, as did his heart. Not wanting to be humiliated or rejected.  
He stopped in the middle of straightening up and pulling his other leg out from under the table. And his head reeled and whirred. What to do, how to do it, when. The only thing that he was absolutely sure of was that it just needed to be done. Soon. Receiving odd looks from fellow Slytherins; half standing, half sitting, undecided and self shocked, Draco tried to concentrate.  
Straddling the bench to think clearly, Draco noticed his peers trying to discreetly look at him but failing miserably at the cost of a half concentrated glare. His fear of rejection could plausibly prevent himself from doing what needed to be done. Somehow, he needed to beat his fear down, needed to control it.  
"Draco, hey Draco!"  
Looking up from the bench, Draco looked around for the owner of the voice and sitting on the opposite side of the table from him was Pansy Parkinson. He tried to sneer but he couldn't manage his maximum disgust.  
"What'd you want, Parkinson?"  
"Well, Draco," she stated primly, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he had used her surname, "I've noticed that you've seemed a bit preoccupied lately. And quite often, I've seen you look towards what I believe is the Gryffindor table. You know, I don't want you to get exiled from the other Slytherins and I know that you are aware that they, unlike me, aren't as accepting of people in love with mudbloods. Even though the thought of anyone being attracted to that smart arse Granger is vile."  
Draco glanced over at the Gryffindors where Hermione was sitting with one of her textbooks propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice. In love with Granger? Ha.  
Turning around again, he saw Pansy sitting with a smug look upon her face, waiting for Draco's reaction. His face twisted violently and disgustingly.  
"Get out of here, Parkinson. You don't know what you're talking about and don't try to sound like you do."  
Meaning for that to be her dismissal, Draco stared back down at grain of the bench, hoping to see the flurry of her leaving out of the edges of his eyes. But, sadly, his hopes were not granted and Pansy remained unfalteringly in her seat.  
"Draco," she said, her voice brittle. "Listen, don't lose the . . . the Slytherin in you that has ruled your body since birth."  
Giving Pansy a full glare, he turned his back on her, knowing that now she would definitely know that he wanted her gone from his sight. And she better leave. Pansy huffed irritably and stood, flouncing away. Draco heaved a great sigh of relief at her absence; the air always cleared when she was gone.  
And so, Draco set about to make his plan to get back the one person he may really ever have loved.  
  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~. ~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
  
As the months passed, Draco plotted and Draco planned. Every single day, he feared that never again would he see Harry. Never again would Harry be glad to see him. All summer, he wallowed in depression and despair, thoughts of hopelessness constantly flitting across his brain, not a happy thought ever surfaced. Not that Draco could think of, anyway.  
At the end of July all of his confidence had flown the coop, and that was another first sensation for Draco; Harry must bring all of the new emotions to him. But, as new emotions were brought round to a front, so were new thoughts, ideas and possible, plausible courses of actions. The gears begin to turn.  
  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
  
Harry's final year at Hogwarts loomed up unexpectedly and his first thoughts upon entering the enchanting building were sadly thoughts of despair, still continued over from summer vacation. But, even as despair reigned his mind, the memories floated through the sickly and smothering fog to surface inside. All the way from the beginning of his very first year at Hogwarts until the disappointing end of his sixth. But, the recent year only brought the pain of Draco upon Harry again, no matter how he tried to prevent it.  
He thought that being away with memories of Draco were the peak of pain that could ever exist, but being at Hogwarts, in the same exact building as him, merely increased the bar by leaps and bounds. And Harry was afraid that the pain would kill him, starting at his heart.  
Catching the end of his foot upon the heel of his other, he flew to the floor. People felt Harry's force bump into them and they all stumbled forward, momentum carrying them to a painful fall upon the floor. Ron grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him up from the stone flooring of the old building.  
"Watch it," he muttered inconspicuously into Harry's ear, as the confused and surprised young man brushed himself off.  
People were looking around for the cause of the obstruction in the hallway, and Harry received several murderous, painful glances all around. He searched all their faces, afraid of what they were thinking. From one face to the next, they all looked at him with the air of surprised malevolence. Starting to panic, he scanned the crowd quickly, fearing. But one face held sympathy and Harry's flitting eyes did a double take.  
Draco.  
Just seeming to be lost in the so-seemed apparition of Harry Potter, he smiled slightly, maybe reminiscently, at the chaos. Harry sputtered, trying to say Draco's name, but he couldn't; he lost himself in looking.  
After almost three months of being constricted to memories and thoughts, Draco in reality himself, seemed unrealistic.  
Moving away from the crowd, Draco slunk into the Great Hall, his once straight and high shoulders hung, sagging and low, and as he disappeared, Harry followed with his eyes. Now oblivious to the crowd, which had ceased the traffic jam, continuing once more in an unceasingly direct path to the Great Hall.  
"Harry," Hermione said, nudging Harry, pushing him forward. "Let's go sit down. Go on, move."  
Surging forward with the crowd, Ron and Hermione flanking his sides, Harry reached the Gryffindor table and sank into the seat. Sharing possibly exasperated glances, Ron and Hermione sat as well, Ron next to Harry, Hermione on his other side.  
"He didn't even say anything to me."  
  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~ .~.~.~.~.~.~.~ 


	3. Beneath the Blossoming Tree

MY PAPER HEART  
Chapter Three:  
Beneath the Blossoming Tree  
  
Knowing he should follow through, but denying the temptation, Draco's plan never fell into action. A sad plan it 'twas, perhaps, but it would accomplish what he needed. The days fell into a pattern that Draco deeply disliked. He would wake in the morning, feeling optimistic and sure, ready to get his love back, but as the day wore on and he never approached Harry in any way, optimism drained until it was completely extinguished.  
More or less, Harry and Draco ignored each other, perhaps a stolen glance the other knew nothing about, but nothing more.  
As the days passed, the months walked by, and their last year crawled away.  
Spring had come.  
  
.---------------.--------------.--------------.--------------.-------------- .--------------.--------------.  
  
Share with me the pain of a lifetime. Sought from the foe of something much more than friends, much more than love. He knows the horror, he knows the fear. He feels the hatred upon his back and carries the weight upon his shoulders. The whip of love cracks across his back, the bell of compassion gongs through the night air to arouse the sleeping lover. A tear of time, a year of longing. Only say that you care, that you remember, and all will be repaired.  
  
.---------------.--------------.--------------.--------------.-------------- .--------------.--------------.  
  
A year has passed  
The seasons go  
  
The feeling of waiting was wearing thin upon Draco's mind. He knew that something would have to happen soon, and he would need to be the trigger. Fear of rejection was overrun by fear of loss, and he didn't want to experience the loss that already so many grieved horribly. He would not succumb to a horrible statistic; he refused.  
If need be, Draco had decided that he would be willing to sacrifice his dignity, façade of cruelty, and he would shed his skin of refusal to love. If it would get Harry Potter back by Draco's side, he would go to the very distance required.  
And so it be how Draco came to a halt outside the Gryffindor tower room, staring up at the Fat Lady, unsure and hesitant.  
"I do not recall seeing you in these parts before, young boy!" she cried stately. "Are you sure you belong here?"  
"Uhm..." a shocked and embarrassed Draco hemmed and hawed to the Fat Lady.  
But nothing would budge her. She would not let him in without the password and if she couldn't recall seeing him before, her suspicion was just greatly increased. At one point, Draco had become so impatient that he stamped his foot like a four year old at the Fat Lady, which only caused her to roar with unrequited laughter.  
After all too much time had passed, Draco backed away from the portrait and looked at it from across the hallway. He slid down the opposite wall to the ground, his knees pulled near to his chest, deciding to wait until the Gryffindors would leave the tower for dinner.  
If only they would hurry up.  
So near his goal, blocked only by a portrait.  
As Draco sat waiting, he realized that he didn't know what he was going to do. Now that he thought over it, he had no idea what he had planned to do once he reached inside the Gryffindor common room. Storm up to Harry in the middle of the common room and ask to talk to him alone? Hmm, how inconspicuous.  
The portrait swung open as Draco contemplated and he almost wished that it would close again so that he would have more time to think up a plan. But, even if he had wished something, it wouldn't have worked. Pulling himself up quickly, he brushed his backside off, ridding himself from nonexistent dirt and filth.  
He drew in a breath, wondering if it would be Harry. But it wasn't. Some dirt brown haired boy who seemed to be searching himself as if he had lost something. The Gryffindors coming out of the room all gave Draco odd looks, some even challenged him, but he waved them away with his hand; as if they were flies.  
About halfway through the stream of courageous folk, Draco spotted Harry's head, made obvious by the Weasley's bright red crop of hair. He fixed his gaze upon Harry and stood as if he were a statue. Feeling the gaze's power, Harry looked until he saw Draco. And then he stopped right away. People complained lightly, but consented themselves to walking carefully around the near insane, supposed Hero Harry.  
When alone in the hallway (exempt for the Fat Lady) Draco moved slightly closer to Harry, moving slowly as if approaching a rabid cat.  
". . . Hi," Draco started, sweat formulating on his upper brow, "Harry."  
Fixing a stony glare on Draco, Harry turned as if to start down the hallway.  
"Why? And what?"  
Knowing what he meant, Draco drew in a breath for the second time. 'Why did you do it?' And 'what are you doing here?'  
"Because," he began nervously, Draco tried to act completely natural and still cocky, but failing so miserably, "I was scared. Scared of your love. Or maybe just love as a whole. I wasn't brought up to love, only to fight and serve those like the Dark Lord. To love, was to earn my father's disrespect.  
"All these years at Hogwarts you've made friends who actually care about you, and I have idiots who only follow me because that is what they've told to do. And then . . . we happen. I felt your want, your need, your love so early on. And it only became unbearable for me in the last few weeks. Because," he gulped, then took the plunge, "because I realized I love you too."  
Harry only slightly moved his head. Not a jerk of surprise, but more like he knew a fact that had just been confirmed.  
"And I'm here right now, to tell you that I need you back, Harry, I really do. This last summer was the worst summer ever, and I have had some really bad summers in the past. Every waking moment, I remembered you. Every night, I thought of you. The thought that I lost you on my behalf was the worst thing ever."  
"Draco . . . " his voice full of sorrow, Harry could just barely whisper his name, almost choking on the condensation of emotion. "I . . ."  
Watching Harry struggle with himself, his mind versus his heart, was an excruciating pain that Draco could barely hold inside. Had he just expected Harry to leap back to him again? Just because he asked?  
  
Please just don't play with me  
My paper heart will bleed  
This wait for destiny won't do  
Be with me please I beseech you  
Simple things that make you run away  
Catch you if I can  
  
"Draco . . ." Harry repeated the name once again, feeling it upon his lips, sounding out each syllable. "All this summer, I pined for you. I thrived on my memories of you, and every moment was spent remembering you. I thought that maybe I had been wrong; maybe I was just a play thing to you, Draco, like I was at the beginning. It almost killed my heart."  
Looking towards Harry, Draco took a step closer.  
"And, just a moment ago, there is no way anyway could be as happy as I was; but, now, Draco, it's replaced by something else. And, it makes my heart ache even more. But the pain that you caused me . . . I . . . I just can't, no matter how much I . . . want . . . to . . ."  
Suddenly, it hit Draco and he looked to the ground quickly, keeping his eyes upon the carved floors. Slowly, he fell back a step, then another.  
  
"Goodbye, Harry."  
  
...................................... ......  
  
Summer time, the nights are so long  
The leaves fall down,  
And so do I into the arms of a friend  
  
Wandering slowly around the corridors in Malfoy Mansion, Draco ran his pale hand along the wall, bumping it into the occasional tapestry and the curtains at the windows. He reached the end of one corridor and turned down another. After several turns, he drew close to a full floor length window with dark green curtains pulled together, blocking the sunlight.  
He reached the curtain and pulled them back. The voluminous grounds seemed to look haughtily up at Draco, casting a shade of darkness upon anything near. Diverting his eyes from the 'garden' below, Draco looked out to the surrounding hills and mountains, contemplating nothing in particular.  
Draco's last year of Hogwarts was finished in heartbreak and he had come straight home to the Manor; no desire for anything exciting. He spent most of his time awake, wandering the halls and stopping every so often at a window.  
Lucius and Narcissa hadn't noticed anything different in their son's normally exceedingly surly manner, only the servants had. And not many of them said much at all, and if they did, it definitely wouldn't be to the Master and Mistress of Malfoy Manor. So Draco was left alone with his thoughts and memories, the windows and doors.  
The rest of that afternoon Draco spent standing in the window, and when the sun fell below the mountains, he showed signs of leaving the window. Stepping out from behind the curtain, Draco saw a ghostly servant float by, and he followed it towards the other section of the Manor.  
Eventually, the servant turned down a stairwell whilst Draco continued forward and by the time Draco reached his rooms, it was stretching late into the night. As he slipped into his pajamas, he allowed the first thought of Harry that day to enter his head. Not wanting to remember, he shook his head as if he were a dog and laid down in his bed.  
  
...................................... ......  
  
When Draco left the Manor of his parents a few months later, he spared hardly one glance backwards; days full of nothing, nothing but thoughts. He tried to sweep clean from his mind. As always, not wanting to remember. Stepping into the small cabin-like building that Lucius had begrudgingly bought for him, he looked around at the simple layout. Perfect for a family of one; that was it.  
  
......................................  
......  
  
Draco rolled over in his bed and pulled the blankets closer to his body; it was freezing here on Winter mornings, and was just as bad in Spring. Twice as cold as the cold stone floors of Hogwarts that Draco had laid upon so many times, albeit he had Harry at his side in those times.  
As the morning shone in Draco's uncovered window upon his face, his eyes fluttered open slowly. Another day in Hidden Paradise was awaiting him.  
He pulled on a pair of clothes haphazardly; it didn't matter what he wore, no one was here to see him anyway. Exiting his bedroom, he walked through the kitchen to the front door. He pulled on a pair of boots that were laying just inside the minuscule home. Pulling open the door and stepping outside, Draco felt the cold sun beat down upon his face. Looking out upon the neglected grounds that were just outside his fence, he saw a speck moving across the ground.  
He stepped off of his tiny porch and walked to the fence. After a moment of staring out, he opened the fence gate and began to walk quickly to the moving dot. It felt as though he weren't getting anywhere and Draco's heart sped up, urging his legs to move faster and faster. Get to the person soon, soon, soon! The sooner the better! Breaking into a jog, sweat began to formulate upon his forehead, not from exertion and exhaustion, but nervousness. Months of waiting settled into his pace.  
Beneath the blossoming tree, the impossibly purple blossoms slowly floated to the earth around them, they reached each other; regretful and forgiving, forgiven and regretted, they stood a foot apart.  
Choking on his words, Draco spoke, "Hello, Harry."  
  
Winter nights  
My bedside is cold, for I am gone  
And spring blossoms you to me  
  
-Finished, Thank God- 


End file.
